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"In the beginning, I got great kindness at your hands, Lord King," she said at last, "and your anger hurts me!" On the point of softening, the King's face hardened, and he averted his head. "You value my favor rather late in the day, Frode's daughter. It would have been better if you had shown honor to it when you came in to me at Scoerstan, by giving me truth in return for friendship."
The Scar-Cheek, who had been scanning her critically where she stood before them, drinking, gave a pitying grunt. "By the crooked horn, boy, you must have had naught but ill luck since the time of Scoerstan! No more meat is on you than a raven could eat; and the night I was in the Englishman's hall, you had the appearance of having been under a lash. Your guardian spirit must have gone astray."
The best you can ask for me is that sometime I shall become what you believed me to be the day you came to me at Scoerstan." She tried to tell him that she believed him that now, but something in her forbade the untruth. She could do no more than leave him, with a mute gesture of farewell.
His wide mouth opened in astonishment. "The King's ward? Here is a happening!" he ejaculated. "If I am not much mistaken, Canute will be glad to find this out. It was his belief that you had got your death-blow at Scoerstan, and he took it ill."
They are to join Canute near Scoerstan; I heard it talked among them. My horse is somewhat heavy in his movements, for he is the one Gram rode yesterday; I found him grazing by the road. Let me go, Sister Wynfreda. Bid me farewell and let me go." Clutching at her belt, her arm, her cloak, the nun strove desperately to detain her. "Randalin! Listen!
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